I go on a drive looking for my old self.
I listen to old music and sing along. Dixie Chicks and Bob Dylan,
Songs from my childhood that have bled into my young adult years.
The leaves have barely changed
As the season of summer is about to leave for the year.
Saturday, 79 degrees, and endless blue skies
Guide my way as I drive a route
I once swore I'd never return to.
Too many loops, too scary, too many unknowns.
This is my second time on this road this month
I got lost the first time and made the experience less than thrilling,
Trying to navigate a road by memory without second guessing
Myself takes serious concentration.
Now, I'm going back and forth up a hill,
Reminding myself that this is where I first felt car sickness.
I didn't find my old self, she's no longer around.
Instead, I was reminded of how much I've grown
Since I've been on this road and how much
I'm still scared of the great unknown.
The end of summer is near.
I sit in the shade out back
and listen to the last
of the summer sounds.
Noises of insects sounding
like frogs in the afternoon.
Kids are walking home
from school, leaves are
preparing to change
colors soon. What to do?
Nothing but observe
the small airplane flying
it is best not to
move my head.
I look out to the west to see
the mountains have vanished
underneath a blanket of heavy
rain clouds. For hours, I wait for
the rain to fall. Sometimes, it comes
and passes within minutes. Other times,
like today, it lingers for hours, teasing
its arrival while never actually
making its way to the plains.
When the clouds come
overhead in the afternoon,
remember that all days
cannot be sunshine and blue skies.
You can't expect perfection
when you know there will be rain.
It's okay, you can't hear all
the good news you want in one day.
Walking through the woods, I admire the changing leaves
on the aspen trees. It looks like fall but feels like summer.
I take off my sweater and look at the view that’s similar to
the moon. Wide open space with very little human life
equates to the feeling of being on another planet. The leaves
look like their on fire as the orange color burns the naked
eye. When I reach the top, I look out to see hills and mountains
filled with fire leaves. The hills are alive with the sound of
music plays in my head while I catch my breath.
(This photo was taken at 6:30pm, 70° F.)
I’m sitting on my back deck, something I rarely do voluntarily these days, catching up on a few New Yorker magazines I’ve been ignoring for too long. It’s early evening, almost 6:00 pm and the warm breeze is blowing. I can feel the end of summer nearing as I look up to the changing leaves in my yard. One dog is lounging near me on the deck while the other is by the fence, munching on grass. The deck is in the shade facing east. A diet coke is on the glass table, my second of the day because of a lingering migraine. A dragonfly stops on the wood beneath my feet before continuing on his way. The dog by me comes up and licks my chin. My favorite time of year is approaching faster than I realize. The only thing missing is the crisp in the air.
Summer wind is unique. Its warm feeling can either comfort us or make us want to scream. It’s different in every place and depending on how you feel about this season, the wind will either make or break you.
I tend to be indifferent towards the summer wind. Some days, it reminds me of my childhood and other days I feel as though I’m living in hell. It’s normally the latter.
As I’ve gotten older, I have felt less positive about the heat. I grew up in Arizona and I didn’t think much about the heat. I’d run around barefoot in my neighborhood, staying outside until the sun disappeared past the horizon. I had tan skin and white hair. Then I moved to Colorado and I missed the heat like an old friend I never imagined I would one day lose.
Now I hate the heat. I hate sweating from doing nothing. I hate being weighed down by the weather. I hate not being able to breathe. I hate the endless, hot days that feel like years with no rain. I hate that summer leaves as fast as it arrives. I hate that my old friend has become my enemy.
Three months long at all. Though it extends by a little in spring and autumn, this summer wind never fully cools down the long days.